Tag Archives: Substance Abuse & Addictions

Substance Abuse & Addictions

Healing the healers: Counselors recovering from familial addiction

By Suzanne A. Whitehead October 8, 2019

It has been roughly 17 months since I wrote a piece for CT Online about my son’s struggle with addiction, and it is amazing how far he and our family have come since then. I felt compelled to write a follow-up, not just because he is my son, but also because in the past year, I have discovered that so many professional counselors’ and counselor educators’ family members suffer in silence.

Last year, I used an author pseudonym in my article. I did this for two reasons. First, out of respect for our son because he was still in residential treatment and I couldn’t ask him for permission at that time. Second, I wanted to preserve anonymity for both of us, afraid of the effects that discussing our story and revealing our identities might have. A lot has changed over the past year, however, and today, both my son and I are so much stronger for having the courage to speak out. We no longer hide behind the effects of this horrible disease. I have learned that by speaking up, the addiction no longer holds any power over our family. I hope in this article to offer some solace, support, understanding and love to those who are suffering in silence. We healers deserve to heal too, and my heart goes out to you all.

On Feb. 16, 2018, the police called us at 2:30 a.m. from the other side of the country — 2,600 miles away — to tell us that our beautiful, precious son had been found on the side of the road, passed out. We later learned that the heroin in my son’s possession had been laced with fentanyl–he had no idea. Heroin users never have any idea what they are truly getting. They assume it is the same product that they are used to, draw up the same “dosage,” and a few seconds after injection, it’s all over.  The police  told us  that they had found our son just in time. He was in the cab of his truck, his foot still balanced on the brakes, the heroin and needle next to his side, the tourniquet still strapped to his arm and accompanied by his faithful dog, who barked like crazy as the police pounded on the door. It is a miracle our son is still with us. It is even more miraculous that he now has over 14 months in recovery and in order to pursue what he calls his life’s work, is studying to become a substance abuse counselor.

I wish I could share with you the “miracle formula,”– a path that if everyone could just follow, they would be “OK.” If only … But, this disease of addiction doesn’t work that way. It has a mind of its own, and its victims must find the recovery that best works for them.

I attended the American Counseling Association Conference & Expo in New Orleans this past March and went to a session proctored by Geri Miller (author of Learning the Language of Addiction Counseling). She, along with two other presenters, Jennifer Kline and Ben Asma, tried to describe the nature of addiction to the audience: how tolerance builds up, how the brain becomes “hijacked” by the opioids, and the realities of withdrawal. They did an outstanding job  relaying what actually happens to a human being, and came as close as I’ve ever heard to describing the abject horror a person suffering from addiction must endure.

For those of us who have never experienced or witnessed a person in withdrawal (I am not a person in recovery, but am a licensed addiction counselor and professor who teaches addiction and counselor education), it is hard for people to truly understand its hell. My son had to go through it on the floor of a jail cell, writhing in agony. An addict no longer uses to get high – that ship has sailed a long, long time ago. They use only to avoid withdrawal.

When withdrawal starts, you begin to feel like you are becoming quite physically ill. Soon, you begin to sweat all over, then have uncontrollable bouts of freezing. Your skin begins to crawl; you start seeing double. Your gut aches as it never has. And then you begin to wretch violently.

Simultaneously, you lose control of your bowels, and getting to the toilet is no longer an option. The pain continues to grow as you lose the ability to stand up. Your stomach contorts and your head is in agony. You want to rip out your hair, your eyeballs, anything to make the wretched pain stop. You continue vomiting and soiling yourself, every few moments. There is no reprieve, no solace,  no hope. You are so “dope sick” now that you think you may die and loathe yourself so much that you no longer believe you are even worth saving. You know the one and only thing that will make this sheer hell on earth stop is if you can get some drugs in your system. You swear by all you have left within you that you will “quit tomorrow.” You must tell yourself this lie, because to realize that you can never quit on your own is too unbearable to fathom.

After several hours, or even a day or two of the above, you will do anything (just about) to get more drugs. You despise your very being, your reflection in any mirror, and the lies you constantly tell to the ones you love the most. Your shame and guilt seem insurmountable. Your spirituality is gone – it was one of the first things the drugs took away from you. There is no longer any hope, just the temporary relief of the heroin (or worse) coursing through your veins.

Each day, or several times per day, this hell is reenacted. Depending on tolerance, what you took, how often, withdrawals can start again in a matter of hours. When a person must detox without the benefit of using buprenorphine or a combination of buprenorphine and naloxone to slowly, medically and safely wean them off the substances, the hell can last for days or a week or more. Withdrawal from heroin use is rarely fatal; however, there are many serious side effects and people can die from dehydration. If they are not safely detoxed, their pulse often becomes thready, their PO2 oxygen levels drop, their blood pressure plummets and they may even slip into unconsciousness or start seizing. This is what happened to my son. The guards had to rush him back to the hospital after 36 hours to give him IV fluids. He was so gravely ill that he barely remembers this part. The hospital personnel patched him up and within a few hours, he went back to his jail cell. How we treat people who have unwittingly taken too much OxyContin and become victims of the pharmaceutical trade is unconscionable. It is now known that a person can become addicted to OxyContin within five days. And we treat these people, human beings, worse than wild animals.

To know my son survived this horror, alone, with nothing but Tylenol and something mild for nausea (which is vomited immediately), tears at the very fabric of my soul and violates all I hold sacred in this world. How he was treated was vile, but not uncommon. Many others who suffer from addiction and end up in jail receive the same treatment. They will face the legal system, as my son did, and pay for their crimes. But the horrendous lack of treatment, access to care or compassion, combined with the sheer inhumaneness they face, brings me to my knees. If people only knew…

There is no question that many people do horrid things when they become victims of addiction; the realities are painfully obvious. A cornerstone of recovery is the process of paying for  mistakes and learning how to make amends. Forgiveness from loved ones can come at a very heavy price, and forgiving oneself can ultimately become the hardest fought battle of all. Addiction is such a cruel, insidious disease, particularly because so many have such a difficult time in separating the behavior from the person. Understanding the horrible acts that some people commit, while also trying to see them as a person in severe emotional, physical and spiritual pain, is a significant and sometimes difficult juxtaposition. For those living with addiction, free will has been overtaken by the demands of withdrawal, and the self-deprecation that follows each usage is beyond daunting.

My intention in writing this piece is to help convey the utter destruction of opioid addiction and the ugly and purulent aspects of withdrawal. Once we truly understand this part of the disease, our entire paradigms change. It would be unconscionable to treat someone with cancer, heart disease, diabetes or emphysema this way. Yet we allow this to go on day after day after day. We lose over 116 dear souls to opioid overdoses in this country every day now, and the numbers continue to rise. We all share this plight because addiction can, and does, happen to anyone. Once we understand this, we can stop the blame and shame that has for centuries accompanied this disease and begin to proactively act.

Our son is still fighting this disease; he will for the rest of his life. So far, he is winning, but elements that test his recovery are always there. We continue to celebrate his victiories. The entire family went to his open Narcotics Anonymous meeting to watch him get his one-year keychain and cheered like crazy fools. The look of pride in his eyes said it all: it’s as if his life is now just beginning. He’s been volunteering 30 hours per week at a county outpatient and residential treatment center since September 2018 as he works on attaining his certification to treat those with substance use disorders. His compassion for those fallen is unparalleled; he “gets this.” His family couldn’t be prouder. What an incredible difference he is making in the lives of others every day. He is my hero, and I stand in awe of his contributions and bravery.

Narcotics Anonymous keytag (via newyorkna.org)

My other goal in writing this is to discuss the stigma that helping professionals face when our own loved ones confront addition. That reality persists, and when I feel brave enough to reach out, I have overwhelmingly found that so many others also suffer in silence. Because we are counselors, therapists, professors and educators, we—and others—believe that not only do we help heal others, we must somehow have all the answers and will always know and have the ability to intervene in cases of addiction — especially with our loved ones. The assumption (I surmise) goes that there is something gravely wrong with us when a loved one succumbs to addiction. Why didn’t we intervene and stop them? Unfortunately, it’s not a matter of becoming aware and then simply “stepping in.” Addiction is a bio-psycho-social-emotional disease, insidious in its approach, and deadly in its tracks. It is not exclusive and honors no perceived barriers — not religion, socio-economic class, ethnicity or any other categories or factors. Because secrecy, lying, excuses, stories, deception, and falsehoods are all part and parcel with this disease, even the most astute of us do not always recognize the signs of impending addiction. Before long, victims are well into their disease and, by necessity, the level of deception grows with each passing day. It’s called survival.

To blame the person who is addicted for using their survival instincts is antithetical to any help we can give them. So too is to blame the family members and loved ones, no matter their profession. The isolation I felt this past year was heart-wrenching, lonely, judgmental, sad, destructive, and purposeless. I have also found that this sense of isolation is shared by many of my comrades. I am mentally exhausted from hiding in the shadows, fearing recriminations and judgments from those who refuse to listen or understand.

As I test the waters and disclose our story, I am buoyed by the knowledge that there are so many of us who need a voice. We need to raise awareness that this disease knows no bounds and its victims are all of us. It’s time to stop letting addiction win. It’s time to stop being its unwitting counterparts. It’s time to treat the addicted person, the family, and the loved ones with humanity and compassion —- the same way we treat others with any type of potentially deadly disease. I’m determined to not let my professional colleagues suffer in silence. I feel your pain; I understand. Now, let’s get the word out.

 

 

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Suzanne Whitehead is coordinator of the counselor education program at California State University, Stanislaus. Her main research interests include promoting increased access and humane treatment for those afflicted with substance use disorders; crisis and disaster counseling; and equity for DACA recipients, immigrants and refugees. Contact her at swhitehead1@csustan.edu.

 

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Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.

Suicide, substance abuse and medical trauma

By Bethany Bray September 3, 2019

Gunshot wounds, injuries from automobile accidents, a fall from a ladder, cooking burns or other incidents, either self-inflicted or unintentional: These are a few examples of the medical trauma that brings patients to the Wake Forest Baptist Health (WFBH) Medical Center in Winston-Salem, North Carolina.

Elizabeth Hodges Shilling and Olivia Smith are part of a team of counselors who talk with trauma patients at WFBH and assess them for suicidality and alcohol or substance use. The counselors have a laundry list of questions to ask patients as part of the assessment, but patients are often reeling from the traumatic incident that brought them to the hospital. At the same time, the counselors have a limited amount of time to work with each patient because patients are usually under their care for only 24 to 48 hours.

The solution? Shilling and Smith say they use a lot of “tell me” or “tell me more” questions and prompts. It’s a gentle way of getting the information they need and connecting the patient to additional resources.

For instance, instead of directly asking patients whether they drink or use drugs, Smith might say, “Tell me about when you’ve used alcohol or drugs to help you calm down or when hanging out with friends.” These types of inquiries make patients more likely to respond and open up, according to Smith, a coordinator and counselor on the adult and pediatric trauma screening and brief intervention team at WFBH.

This can be especially true with teenagers and young adults, who can be quick to put defenses up. “Sometimes we preface our questions with, ‘I’m not here to try and stop you. I just want to understand and try and support you,’” Smith notes.

Shilling and Smith are both licensed professional counselors and licensed clinical addictions specialists. They say that framing their assessments as “conversations” can help to form a connection with patients who might be overwhelmed by all the questions they’ve been getting from doctors and other medical personnel.

“Tell me about” questions are a gentle way of building rapport and opening the door to get more information from patients, says Shilling, an assistant professor in the department of surgery at Wake Forest School of Medicine. It also lets patients know that the issues with which they might be struggling aren’t unusual; other individuals are struggling with them as well.

The counselors may use prompts such as, “Tell me about the last time you thought about hurting yourself” or “Tell me about the times you’ve tried to cut down on your drinking,” says Shilling, a member of the American Counseling Association.

“Just throwing it into the conversation and bringing it out in the open gets them thinking about it,” Smith says. “[Also,] it eases up on the stigma about these thoughts and normalizes that it happens. We often hear embarrassment, and [patients who say,] ‘I’m having these thoughts, and I don’t know what to do with them.’”

Roughly 50% of the trauma patients they see at WFBH are admitted because of an accident or incident related to alcohol, Shilling says. This includes suicide attempts while under the influence of alcohol, intoxicated driving or being a passenger in a car with an intoxicated driver, or a variety of injuries that occur after a person has been drinking. Hospitalwide, one-third of patients are admitted for a medical condition related to substance use, she says. This includes conditions exacerbated by long-term alcohol use, such as pancreatitis.

“We often see people who have never thought about making a change, or others who have been injured several times and it’s a wake-up call and they want to change. Alcohol use can be a big part of their situation but also a small thing, as they’re dealing with so many things at once,” Smith says. “Being in the hospital posttrauma really facilitates the opportunity to think about making changes in your life. … It’s a teachable moment and opportune time to reassess [your choices].”

 

Alcohol and suicide

Smith and Shilling urge mental health practitioners to include questions about alcohol and substance use when screening clients for suicidality. This is a vitally important area of risk that often gets overlooked in suicide assessment, Shilling says.

Substance use problems are one of many suicide risk factors included on a list on the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention website, afsp.org.

Substance use can increase a person’s impulsivity, and it numbs the parts of the brain that trigger thoughts and behaviors that keep a person safe, Shilling says. “We see patients who, when sober, say they would not have taken those pills or used their gun, etc. But when they drink, that rational piece [of brain function] gets overridden. Using substances puts you at particular risk.”

Additionally, substance use can have negative effects on the overall mental health and wellness of patients, even if they do not exhibit signs of a substance use disorder. Asking questions about substance use can help patients understand how their drinking or substance use affects the whole picture, including mental health and mood, Shilling says.

“Substances impact their mental health in a lot of ways. They may be using substances in a way that’s not risky per se, but it may be affecting their mental health,” she adds.

Shilling urges practitioners who want to learn more about substance abuse — especially those who work with vulnerable populations such as teens — to seek continuing education or even additional licensure (such as becoming an addictions specialist).

 

Asking the right questions

Smith and Shilling’s cohort at WFBH uses several screening tools to assess for substance use in the patients in the hospital’s trauma, burn and medicine units.

The first is the Alcohol Use Disorders Identification Test (USAUDIT) developed by the U.S. Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration. Available to the public at ct.gov/dmhas/lib/dmhas/publications/USAUDIT-2017.pdf, the assessment places users into one of six categories, ranging from “low-risk alcohol use” (no more than 14 drinks per week for men and seven per week for women) to “alcohol dependence” (which includes a cluster of symptoms indicating dependence on alcohol).

The Wake Forest team also uses the CAGE Substance Abuse Screening Tool developed by the Johns Hopkins School of Medicine. Smith says this mnemonic screening tool helps prompt patients with open-ended questions:

Cut down: Have you ever felt you should cut down on your drinking?

Annoyed: Have people annoyed you by criticizing your drinking?

Guilty: Have you ever felt bad or guilty about your drinking?

Eye-opener: Have you ever had a drink first thing in the morning to steady your nerves or to get rid of a hangover?

Read more about the CAGE screening tool at hopkinsmedicine.org/johns_hopkins_healthcare/downloads/all_plans/CAGE%20Substance%20Screening%20Tool.pdf

 

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Call for help

The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline offers free and confidential support around the clock, seven days a week, at 800-273-8255 or via chat at suicidepreventionlifeline.org.

 

Read more about addressing the topic of suicide with clients in Counseling Today‘s September cover story, “Making it safe to talk about suicidal ideation.”

 

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Contact the counselors interviewed for this article:

 

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Bethany Bray is a senior writer for Counseling Today. Contact her at bbray@counseling.org

 

Follow Counseling Today on Twitter @ACA_CTonline and on Facebook at facebook.com/CounselingToday.

 

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Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.

 

Grieving everyday losses

By Laurie Meyers April 24, 2019

As a society, we think we know what loss is: the death of a parent, partner or child; the destruction of a home through disaster; the shattering of finances through bankruptcy. These are tangible, recognized — sanctioned, if you will — losses. But counselors know that in reality, life brings myriad losses, many of which go unrecognized, unacknowledged and, most importantly, unmourned. The damage caused by these accumulated losses — sometimes referred to in the popular lexicon as “emotional baggage” — often brings clients to counselors’ doors wondering why they’re in so much pain.

In 1989, American Counseling Association member Kenneth Doka, who has written numerous books on grief and loss, established the phrase disenfranchised grief, which he defines as grief that is experienced by those who incur a loss that cannot be openly acknowledged, publicly mourned or socially supported. Disenfranchised grief may result from the loss of a relationship, the loss of identity or ability, pet loss, or even the loss of “giving up” an addiction.

“This unrecognized loss can be happening all around us but, because of the lack of acknowledgment and support, we wouldn’t know about it,” says ACA member Barbara Sheehan-Zeidler, a licensed professional counselor in Littleton, Colorado, whose practice specializes in grief and loss.

She gives the hypothetical example of a woman who is about to move to a thriving new town to start a higher paying job with great benefits. The woman has spent the past 20 years raising her family and creating a great life for her children, but now she is ready to move on. She is excited about entering this new phase in her life and meeting new people. At the same time, the woman is experiencing a lingering and persistent sense of sadness that she can’t explain.

What the woman is experiencing, Sheehan-Zeidler explains, is disenfranchised grief, which can affect clients in numerous ways:

  • Physically: Headaches, loss of appetite, insomnia, pain and other physical symptoms
  • Emotionally: Feelings of sadness, depression, anxiety or guilt
  • Cognitively: Obsessive thinking, inability to concentrate, distressing dreams
  • Behaviorally: Crying, avoiding others, withdrawing socially
  • Spiritually: Searching for meaning or pursuing changes in spiritual practice

In the example, the woman was not recognizing the losses of community, familiarity, social status and spiritual support from her local church that would come with moving, Sheehan-Zeidler explains. Once the woman actually identified and named those things as losses, the counselor was able to validate and explain her symptoms of insomnia, guilt, absent-mindedness, crying, indecisiveness, pervasive sadness and avoidance of social situations. This allowed the woman to grieve her losses and settle into her new life, Sheehan-Zeidler says.

“When we do not process unrecognized or disenfranchised losses, we run the risk of creating a narrative that is tainted with unprocessed feelings and unresolved grief,” she says. “Their Weltanschauung, a German word for worldview, is corrupted with an emotional burden that influences their beliefs and ability to connect. Consequently, they may be limited in projecting self-confidence needed to secure a new job or challenged to join a new social circle due to feelings of depression or unworthiness.” Unrecognized grief from the loss of a job, health or lifestyle can also cause secondary losses, such as damage to one’s self-esteem, a sense of shattered dreams, and lost community, she adds.

Sheehan-Zeidler helps clients process their grief through a variety of rituals. “I invite clients to create a special time, maybe 5 to 15 minutes daily, for the purpose of ‘being with’ their emotions and thoughts,” she says. “During this dedicated time, I suggest clients find a comfortable and private place to sit, journal their feelings and thoughts, light a candle, have soothing music, enjoy a cup of tea, and maybe have a special shawl or blanket to be used during these ‘time-to-mourn’ moments. Or maybe the client is more active, in which case I’d invite them to mindfully walk in a calming place where they can be with their thoughts and feelings as they reflect on their loss.

“The purpose of this time-to-mourn ritual is to create comfort around you and encourage the feelings to come forward in a planned way so we lead the dance with grief and mourning, and not the other way around. Additionally, as grief can come in unexpected waves, if we have a ritual in place, then we can put the ‘surprise’ grief aside, noting that we will visit with it the next time we are sitting or walking in our special place dedicated to honoring and processing the grief and mourning.”

Sheehan-Zeidler also recommends that clients drink plenty of water and get adequate sleep — taking naps if needed — as their minds and bodies process the loss. Finally, she reminds clients that their grieving process will include bad days, but also good ones.

Losing my addiction

“Put simply, disenfranchised grief is grief that is not acknowledged or valued by society,” says Julie Bates-Maves, an ACA member and a former addictions counselor. “Losses that are not seen as legitimate or worthy of our sadness or grief fit here.”

Addiction may be the king (or queen) of losses that are not typically viewed as legitimate or worthy. “Some people … don’t think that losing something ‘bad’ should hurt, but it does,” Bates-Maves says. “If we think about the functions of an addiction — that is, what they can provide for people — you start to see how hard they would be to give up.”

Bates-Maves notes all the ways in which addictions can fulfill people’s needs, albeit in unhealthy ways. “Addictive patterns often bring pain, but it’s a pain that’s familiar,” she notes. “They bring routine, even if it’s an unhealthy one. [It’s] the illusion of power and control over one’s body and mind: ‘I want to feel or think differently, and I know how to accomplish that.’”

Addiction can also provide companionship or escape from a sense of loneliness, whether through friends who also use, through distraction, through numbing (both physically and emotionally), or through the sense of energy and excitement that using substances can provide, Bates-Maves explains. “Losing any of that would be, at best, uncomfortable [and], at worst, unbearable,” she asserts.

“In my own clinical work and in speaking to other counseling professionals and clients, I have noted little discomfort or objection to exploring the negatives of an addiction with clients,” Bates-Maves says. “Notably, I have encountered hesitation or overt avoidance of the ‘positives’ of addiction, [such as] ‘don’t speak of the glory days’ or ‘don’t encourage clients to focus on what they miss; instead focus on what they have to look forward to in recovery.’ Consider this though — what if the ‘glory days’ are the only time the client felt powerful, or safe, or noticed, or admired, or skillful?”

When entering recovery, clients not only contend with the addition of a new set of behaviors, thoughts and feelings, but also an absence of “glory,” Bates-Maves continues. She believes that talking about the “positives” of addiction can help clients in recovery tackle challenges such as reestablishing a sense of their own identity, learning how to connect with others, and filling in any social skill deficits.

“Inviting reflection on the ‘glory’ of it all is a chance to observe a client reminisce about a time when they felt more worthy,” she explains. “If self-worth is centered on the addiction or a component of it, we need to know so we can help them redefine and reconstruct who they are, not just what they do. Losing an addiction is not simply losing a substance or behavior. It’s losing a way of surviving that our body and mind have become settled in. It can be a tremendous loss.”

As Bates-Maves points out, losses can occur anywhere along the addiction and recovery spectrum: prior to addiction; during addiction; during detoxification, treatment, initial, mid- or advanced recovery; prior to a lapse or relapse; and after a lapse or relapse. Some losses, such as a negative alteration in personal appearance or losing custody of children, may be the direct result of the person’s addiction. Other losses, such as the death of a parent, may happen separately from the person’s addiction but will still affect a client’s addiction or recovery, Bates-Maves emphasizes.

Other experiences common to people working to move from addiction to recovery include:

  • Loss of comfort: The person can no longer rely on his or her addictive pattern as a coping mechanism.
  • Loss of power: Choices are often restricted in recovery, and it’s not always OK to make a “bad” choice.
  • Loss of identity: The person may wrestle with the question, “If I’m not an addict, who am I?”
  • Loss of pain relief: The person may ask, “How am I supposed to manage my pain now? I don’t know any other ways that work as well as _________ does.”
  • Loss of perceived choice: Because substance use is no longer an option, the person has to find another way to live, cope and function.

“It can feel like the rug has been pulled out from under them, and some can flounder in the absence of the structure of an addiction,” Bates-Maves says.

“Also consider the more commonly talked about losses, like loss of lifestyle or [loss of] ‘using’ friends,” she adds. “While it may be healthy to move away from people who remain stuck in unhealthy patterns, it’s certainly not easy. As a counselor, I believe that people have a ton of worth, even in the presence of an addiction or negative behaviors. If I’m told to walk away from the positives of a relationship because there are also negative behaviors, I’d struggle. Clients deserve to struggle with that too. Health and happiness are not always the same thing. If I have the choice to be alone and healthy or to be in the company of others and unhealthy, I’d waiver — particularly if others forced me in one direction or another.

“I think it’s important that counselors really sit with what’s being asked of someone when they’re told they must now avoid people who are still using. Allow for the struggle and encourage clients to grieve the loss of good people who are still stuck. Don’t lose sight of the loss and grief there. Value what’s being lost or taken away instead of encouraging — or sometimes mandating — the death of a relationship. And talk about it. Balance is key. Talk about why some losses are needed, and validate that they’re painful. Allow the pain, allow the struggle, and help clients to cope with them as they move toward something different.”

Losses that are controllable — meaning that clients have some say over their occurrence — can actually foster hope in clients that there will be a chance for repair or course correction once they have adopted a new way of living, Bates-Maves says. Examples of losses that might be controllable include legal problems or convictions, family ruptures, loss of employment and financial problems.

However, even with new skills and hope, there is no guarantee that clients in recovery will be able to fix or recoup all that they have lost, she cautions. For that reason, counselors need to help these clients “sit with that and explore both options: How can I learn to be OK and heal if this is changed or fixed? And how can I learn to be OK and heal if this stays broken or less than I hope?”

“The key lesson there is that clients can reconstruct a meaningful life in recovery, even if some components never return to what they once were,” Bates-Maves says. “It’s about moving ahead and grieving what doesn’t move with you. Again, balance. Growth is often painful, and we want to value the pain and loss that come with growth. Knowing that some relationships have been damaged beyond repair might be very painful and a point of personal despair, but it can also be framed as a powerful motivator. We can mourn the past and work to repair the damage that’s done, and we can work to not repeat it. I think our main task as counselors is to help frame the pain as useful and informative. What people hurt about reveals what they value. It also reveals what they don’t want to repeat. Both elements are quite useful to a counselor in helping a client figure out where they want to go and how to start getting there.”

“I think the most important thing for counselors to remember is that change is really hard,” she emphasizes. “That may seem obvious, but consider how often we forget it. Sometimes clients are kicked out of treatment because they’ve lapsed or relapsed. Other times there are mandates about [whom] one can spend time with and [whom] one cannot, requirements for employment, etc.”

Continuing not to engage in addictive behavior, forging relationships with people who don’t use substances, and gaining and maintaining employment are all healthy goals. However, clients need to process many of their losses — particularly those connected to self-worth and self-efficacy — before it is possible for them to achieve those goals, Bates-Maves says.

“Give people credit for the pain that comes with change, and give them space to talk about it,” she urges. “Talk about how health and happiness aren’t the same thing [but] that the work of counseling is to make them closer. Talk about how in order to move forward, we often have to let go and how hard that is, even when we’re letting go of ‘bad’ things. Focus on where someone is and not only where we/they/you want them to be. If we want to help people move forward, we have to understand what’s keeping them where they are currently. But mostly, give people credit for the pain that comes with change, talk about it, and help them grieve.”

A question of identity

As a certified rehabilitation counselor and someone who sustained a spinal cord injury more than 30 years ago, ACA member Susan Stuntzner knows a lot about the losses and grief that come with disability. 

“At the time, I was paralyzed from the waist down, but within two months, I achieved some mobility and enough to walk with below-the-knee ankle-foot-orthotics [AFOs],” she recounts. “While learning to walk was a fantastic high point of the rehabilitation process, an equally important aspect was figuring out my new or different capabilities. More specifically, I learned I could not run, which is something I used to enjoy; lift more than 25-30 pounds; and that I had to push or pull things rather than lift as a means to move objects. I learned it was probably not a good idea to stand indefinitely and the importance of recognizing and honoring what my
body could do rather than expect me to do things in exactly the same way as I could before.”

Stuntzner also grappled with an issue that is particularly common among women with disabilities whose physical appearance is altered, either through injury or a disability present at birth: body image and attractiveness.

“Again, going back to my own experience, while muscles in my thighs worked, those below my knees did not. This meant my feet and ankles did not either,” she says. “Thus, there was a change in how I initially saw myself and my calves, as these did not have muscle return but they were an attached part of my body. Changing the way I viewed myself was difficult and a form of loss, as I was 19 years of age and highly conscious of fashion and, in particular, shoes. In short, I loved cool shoes and I still do. However, the partial paralysis below my knees meant I now had to wear AFOs and could no longer wear the stylish shoes I had so loved. While some of this may sound trivial, fashion and shoes — again, I was 19 years of age — was important to me, and this change represented a form of loss, along with the attention that my AFOs brought to the stranger passing by.”

“My own story is only one of many, as each person who lives with a disability — visible or invisible — has a story or set of experiences,” Stuntzner says. “For some, it may be cognitive changes [such as] memory, learning, recall, traumatic brain injury. For others, it may be health conditions [such as] irritable bowel syndrome, heart conditions [or] chronic obstructive pulmonary disease that disrupt daily activities and events. Other people live with sensory disabilities — loss of vision or hard of hearing. People who are hard of hearing but not deaf face challenges because people sometimes report not feeling as if they fit anywhere; they are not deaf, nor are they a part of the ‘hearing’ sector due to some of the limitations they experience.”

Regardless of a person’s specific set of circumstances, it is important that the person views themselves as a “whole” person, recognizes their assets and strengths, and builds upon those assets and strengths, Stuntzner says. Identifying one’s abilities, strengths and talents regardless of disability and functional limitations is a key part of what rehabilitation counselors help people do, she adds.

Counselors can help these clients grieve by listening and supporting them emotionally and psychologically as they work through the changes brought about by their disability, Stuntzner says. Counselors should understand that adjustment and grief are individualized processes and that two people with very similar conditions and functional changes may cope and adapt very differently, she notes. They also may require different therapeutic approaches to help them move forward. One size does not fit all based on disability type, Stuntzner emphasizes. It is important to view the person as a whole individual and to help people learn to see themselves as capable individuals comprising many different aspects and interests.

“Another key component of working through loss is helping people work through their negative thoughts and feelings, and experience successes, while living with a disability so they develop a strong internal locus of control and a sense that they can effect change in their life and create the life they seek,” Stuntzner says. “In short, it is about empowering people to discover who they are or who they can be in spite of the disability. As people become empowered, they learn to find their voice and own it and use it to help themselves and others. It is through this process that people oftentimes heal and learn to see the bright side of living with a disability.

“By bright side, I mean they learn to see the positive ways their life has changed or can change, and many find a higher purpose through the experience of living with a disability. However, this is a process, one that may begin with grief and loss, then morph into a personal and/or spiritual journey where people discover ways to grow and sometimes access their higher purpose or sense of self. It is on this journey that people find healing.”

Not just a pet

According to the American Veterinary Medical Association, at the end of 2016 (the latest year for which statistics were available), nearly 57 percent of American households had pets. Surveys have shown that the majority of people among that 57 percent also view their pets as part of the family. Yet many people do not regard the death of a pet as a “legitimate” loss. Indeed, those who have suffered the loss of a pet may not recognize their own grief, says licensed clinical professional counselor Cheryl Fisher, an ACA member whose counseling specialties include grief and loss.

In Fisher’s experience, it is not unusual for new clients to present with issues such as depression, anxiety or stress, and when talking about why they are seeking therapy, mention — almost as if it were a side note — “By the way, I just lost my cat.”

Fisher recalls a client who had come to her for grief counseling after the death of a relative. As Fisher listened, she realized that the client’s loss extended beyond that one death and that she was experiencing complicated grief.

The woman mentioned in passing that she rescued feral cats, two of which had died recently. These street felines were not easily domesticated, so the woman’s interactions with them had mainly been restricted to feeding them, Fisher notes. Yet the woman kept collecting them.

The client was very isolated. In fact, the recently deceased relative had been her only remaining family member. Except for the cats. As limited as her relationship was with them, the feral cats were her family, and she was grieving those losses as well.

“People are sheepish about sharing their grief, but our animals are the most vulnerable members of our families and also the most unconditional and accepting,” says Fisher, who shared the experience of losing her beloved dog Lily in her CT Online column, The Counseling Connoisseur (“Pet loss: Lessons in grief,” April 2017).

As she tells clients who are grieving (sheepishly or not), the relationships that people have with their pets — whether dogs, cats, fish or fowl — are strong not just emotionally but biochemically. In interacting with their pets, people feel a release of oxytocin, the hormone responsible for feelings of closeness and attachment.

Fisher also asks these clients to tell their “pet story.” She begins by asking how they met their pets. Fisher says the adoption or birthing story is very significant to the pet–human bond, and when clients start to recount it, they get very passionate as they open up to those memories.

“I always want to know the pet’s name, what kind [of animal it was], what the client liked to do with them and if they have pictures,” Fisher says. “It’s like traditional grief therapy — I’m helping them talk about their loved one.”

As clients talk, Fisher will say things that highlight the significance of their relationship with their pet. For example, she might say, “It sounds like Sadie stood right by you through the divorce.”

Fisher says she can almost see clients exhale: “You get it. I didn’t realize this was so important. She wasn’t just a cat!’”

Fisher also helps clients find ways to stay connected to their pet by giving examples of rituals that others have used. She urges clients to think about their relationship with their pet and the type of remembrance that would fit that bond.

For Fisher and her husband, it was taking Lily’s ashes to the beach where they and their goldendoodle had so often visited and played. “She loved the beach,” Fisher notes.

Some clients create scrapbooks with items such as their pet’s adoption papers and first pictures. Fisher included all the condolence cards she and her husband received in the wake of Lily’s death.

One of Fisher’s clients honored her cat, who loved to look out the window at birds, by constructing a special birdhouse that held pride of place next to the pet’s perch.

Fisher also mentions a video she saw at a conference on children and grief. It was called “Bridget’s Loss,” and in it, a little girl says goodbye to her fish in a “ritual flush.”

Fisher describes the scene: The mother, who filmed the video, asks her daughter if there is anything she wants to say before flushing the fish. The girl says, “Sammy, you were a good fish. You always did good fish things, and now you will be able to go with all the other fish, and I will see you in another time in heaven or wherever.”

The key to grieving pet loss is to have some kind of goodbye ritual, Fisher says, even if it is something completely private that involves only clients and their pet.

 

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Additional resources

To learn more about the topics discussed in this article, take advantage of the following select resources offered by the American Counseling Association:

Counseling Today (ct.counseling.org)

Books (counseling.org/publications/bookstore)

Webinars (aca.digitellinc.com/aca/pages/events)

  • “An Overview of Military Service Members and Their Families: How Mental Health Professionals Can Best Serve This Population” with John P. Duggan and Odis McKinzie (WEB17002)

Podcasts (aca.digitellinc.com/aca/store/5#cat14)

  • “When Grief Becomes Complicated” with Antoinetta Corvasce (ACA252)
  • “Love and Sex and Relationships” with Erica Goodstone (ACA231)
  • “Disability Awareness” with Robbin Miller (ACA196)
  • “Counseling Military Families” (ACA139)

ACA Mental Health Resources (counseling.org/knowledge-center/mental-health-resources/)

 

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Laurie Meyers is the senior writer for Counseling Today. Contact her at lmeyers@counseling.org.

Letters to the editor: ct@counseling.org

 

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Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.

Workforce projections show a coming surplus of school counselors, shortage of addictions counselors

By Bethany Bray January 28, 2019

According to the U.S. Health Resources and Services Administration (HRSA), there will be a shortage of addiction and mental health counselors and a surplus of school counselors and marriage and family therapists in the decade to come.

These predictions come from HRSA’s workforce projections, released recently for a variety of behavioral health professions, including professional counselors, through the year 2030.

Across the country, demand for addiction counselors is expected to increase by 21 percent through 2030, while the supply of these practitioners is expected to rise just six percent. For mental health counselors (defined as a practitioner “who work[s] with individuals and groups to deal with anxiety, depression, grief, stress, suicidal impulses and other mental and emotional health issues”), HRSA predicts that demand will grow by 18 percent while the supply of practitioners will grow by 13 percent.

In both cases, this would leave a deficit of many thousands of counselors across the United States.

“As indicated by the latest HRSA data, professional counselors who specialize in mental health and addictions are in high demand due to an ongoing, pervasive mental health workforce shortage and increased need, such as with the opioid epidemic,” says American Counseling Association President Simone Lambert. “As a profession, we must continue to advocate for access to mental health care in our schools and communities for clients of all ages and diverse backgrounds. In addition, we need to focus on creative solutions, such as telehealth, to service those in rural areas with limited mental health and addiction counselors. ACA continues to seek solutions toward licensure portability in the hopes that in the not-so-distant future professional counselors will be able to provide services across state lines or seamlessly relocate to assist struggling communities.”

On the flip side of the coin, HRSA reports that America is “producing a relatively large number of school counselors,” with a supply expected to increase by 101 percent through the next 11 years, far exceeding a demand growth of just three percent. Even if public schools across the country were to conform to the American School Counselor Association’s recommendation of one school counselor per 250 students, there would still be a surplus of school counselors in 2030, HRSA reports.

HRSA’s projected surplus of marriage and family therapists is not quite as extreme, with demand growing by 14 percent and workforce supply increasing by 41 percent through 2030.

HRSA released these behavioral health workforce predictions in December 2018.

This fall, the agency also released a state-by-state breakdown of supply and demand estimates for behavioral health jobs, including professional counselors, psychiatrists, social workers and other occupations through 2030.

Lambert, a licensed professional counselor and core counseling faculty member at Capella University, notes that the projected need for substance abuse and mental health counselors is reflected in the U.S. Department of Labor’s Occupational Outlook Handbook. The agency projects that employment of substance abuse, behavioral disorder and mental health counselors will grow 23 percent from 2016 to 2026, “much faster than the average for all occupations.”

 

 

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Find out more:

 

HRSA Behavioral Health Workforce Projections landing page

 

HRSA report: State-level Projections of Supply and Demand Behavioral Health Occupations: 2016-2030

 

U.S. Department of Labor Occupational Outlook Handbook for substance abuse, behavioral disorder and mental health counselors

 

 

 

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Follow Counseling Today on Twitter @ACA_CTonline and on Facebook at facebook.com/CounselingToday.

 

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Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.

Standing in the shadow of addiction

By Lindsey Phillips October 30, 2018

Theresa Eschmann, a licensed professional counselor (LPC) and addiction family specialist in private practice in St. Louis, experienced firsthand the power of denial in adult children of parents with alcohol use disorders. All her life, Eschmann had witnessed her mother struggle with this disorder, yet upon finding her mother dead with a bottle of alcohol in her hand, Eschmann’s first response was denial. She couldn’t believe that her mother’s alcohol use disorder had caused her death, initially insisting that someone must have poisoned her.

“I … took a chemical dependency proficiency certification to try to get some understanding of what killed her because it couldn’t have just been alcohol,” Eschmann says, explaining her thinking at the time. “Alcohol made you sick. It made you have delirium tremens. It made you see things. But it couldn’t have killed you.”

Denial is often a strong coping mechanism for adult children of parents with alcohol use disorders, says Lisa Kruger, an LPC and psychotherapist and the owner of Stepping Stone Psychotherapy in the Washington, D.C., metro area. “They have to deny any feelings of sadness or anger that they might have in order to survive,” she says.

This denial extends to adult children’s own potential struggles with substance use disorders. Keith Klostermann, an assistant professor in the Department of Counseling and Clinical Psychology and the director of clinical training for the marriage and family therapy program at Medaille College, had a female client whose father chronically abused alcohol, and her own drinking often led to fights with her boyfriend. One of these drunken fights resulted in her breaking her foot. Even so, she maintained a permissive attitude toward drinking and brushed it off as a recreational activity.

The client was firmly in denial and not yet ready to address either her experience of growing up around substance abuse issues or her own drinking habits, says Klostermann, a licensed marriage and family therapist and licensed mental health counselor who maintains an active practice in New York. Counselors may be eager to push clients to explore these issues, but Klostermann warns that discussing the implications of this childhood experience before clients are ready is a recipe for disaster. Taking that approach may lead to problems establishing a therapeutic alliance or cause clients to end counseling prematurely, he explains. Instead, he advises, counselors can help clients connect the dots and arrive at an understanding that their behavior makes sense based on their experiences growing up.

Asking the right questions

Being an adult child of a parent with a substance use disorder is not uncommon. According to the National Association for Children of Addiction, 1 in 4 children in the United States (or approximately 18.25 million children) live in a family with a parent who is addicted to drugs or alcohol. Yet, Eschmann, a certified master addiction counselor and a member of the American Counseling Association, says it’s her sense that asking whether clients grew up in homes where addiction was present is often skipped over in clinical assessments.

In addition, because these individuals have frequently learned to minimize, discount or deny the implications of growing up in a home with substance abuse, they aren’t particularly likely to seek counseling for those issues.

Being a child of a parent who abused substances “may be the elephant in the room, but that may not be what brings them in. They may not recognize it,” says Klostermann, an ACA member. “The stuff that happens to us when we were younger, a lot of times we carry with us, [but] we don’t even realize why we do the stuff we do. We just sort of do it out of inertia.”

Klostermann and Kruger say that many of their clients present with relationship problems, anxiety, stress, depression and substance use. Often, the counselors note, these issues result from growing up with a parent who had a substance use disorder.

The environment of walking on eggshells around a parent who is under the influence of a substance creates and breeds anxiety for the child, Klostermann explains. When the child becomes an adult and engages in stressful situations in college (e.g., exams) or at work (e.g., deadlines), the person’s anxiety can snowball, he adds. Likewise, they may struggle with adversity and withdraw socially because they find it difficult to navigate relationships. This isolation can lead to depression, which is a real challenge, Klostermann says.

Counselors can look for possible warning signs that their adult clients were exposed to substance abuse issues in the home as children, Klostermann says. For instance, clients might engage in avoidant strategies (e.g., using alcohol as a way to cope with stress) or have a permissive attitude about substance use (e.g., “I don’t drink much. I only have a 12-pack a day.”).

Kruger, an ACA member who specializes in the areas of depression, anxiety, posttraumatic stress disorder, trauma and addiction, had a male client who came to see her for help with relationship issues and high anxiety. In his intake paperwork, the client wrote that he drank nightly, so she asked him how many drinks he had in a week. “It was 50 to 60 a week,” he replied, “but now it’s only 20 or 30.” This response was a big red flag, yet he didn’t realize that his drinking was a problem, she says.

To help clients recognize unhealthy behaviors, Kruger often uses motivational interviewing techniques. For example, with this client, a counselor might ask, “How is drinking 20 or 30 drinks a week working out for you?”

If counselors see potential warning signs, Klostermann advises asking questions about current substance use patterns, previous substance use, parental substance use and family attitudes around drinking. For example, counselors might ask the following questions: What was it like growing up in your home? What does drinking a lot or having a good time mean to you? What does that look like? What are the holidays and celebrations like in your family? What is a typical family dinner or birthday party like?

“Substance use is built around so many family functions and gatherings and celebrations,” Klostermann says. So, if a client comments, “My parents liked to party,” counselors could follow up by asking the client to explain what that means and what the implications are for the client’s life (e.g., increased violence after a parent drank, embarrassment when a parent became intoxicated at a social event). Klostermann explains that these types of questions help clinicians gain a better understanding of not just the acute nature of growing up in an environment with substance abuse but also the context of it — for instance, whether parental drug use led to a more permissive attitude at home or whether the child adopted unhealthy coping strategies.

In addition, adult children often find it easier to talk about others rather than themselves, Klostermann says. By asking these types of nonjudgmental questions (e.g., “Did drinking like that seem to work out for your mom?”), counselors can help clients create insight and awareness by changing the frame of reference, he explains. This technique helps clients gain an understanding about not only the severity of their parents’ alcohol or substance use but also the emotional implications of that behavior, he adds.

After counselors establish that awareness, Klostermann says, they can connect it to the client’s present situation (e.g., “Does drinking affect your relationships or grades?”). He suggests that counselors could also try to educate clients by saying something along the following lines: “Given what you described about your [parent’s] history, it’s not uncommon for people that grow up in these homes to sometimes exhibit certain behaviors. Sounds like that might be happening for you.”

Counselors are “planting the seed [and] leaving the door open but also helping [clients] to connect the dots and understand this is what’s going on and here’s why,” he explains.

In addition to asking about clients’ personal and family substance use histories, Kruger often focuses her questions on clients’ relationships with their parents. These questions can help bring out emotions such as shame, guilt or anxiety that stem from being a child of a parent with a substance use disorder, she says.

Emotional and attachment wounds

“Adult children of alcoholics … have difficulty identifying and expressing emotions,” Kruger explains, “because when they were kids, they had to set aside their own emotions — maybe they had to care for their parents. … They didn’t understand what their emotions were because what they saw in their parents’ relationship was inconsistent presentation or organization of emotions between them and maybe even between the parent and child too.”

To help clients who are having difficulty expressing their emotions, Kruger provides a sheet that shows 50 visual representations of emotions and asks clients to name the emotions that describe how they are feeling. She says this activity, which she refers to as an “emotional cheat sheet,” is “a good springboard … for clients who really don’t have the language [for their emotions].”

Kruger and Eschmann find that codependency is another common issue for adult children of parents with alcohol use disorders. Because these adult children grow up being sensitive to the needs of their parents — even to the point of ignoring their own needs — they often engage in approval seeking, which leads to codependency, Kruger explains. This need for approval and to avoid conflict can result in these individuals seeking acceptance from others who do not treat them well, which causes lower self-esteem, she says.

Often, clients who are codependent will assume they are OK because they are not the ones causing problems, Eschmann observes. She questions clients on codependent behavior by asking about their controlling behaviors, approval-seeking behaviors, anxiety, and distortion around intimacy and separation.

For Kruger, it all comes back to attachment — how bonds are created and broken. Parents who struggle with alcohol use disorders are typically inconsistent in their parenting and in their show of emotion toward their children. As she points out, this can create attachment wounds and be stressful for children growing up under these circumstances. Children may be doubly affected because they still depend on parents for care and for getting many of their emotional needs met. At the same time, these children often aren’t in a position to fight or to flee elsewhere, she adds.

Counselors can help adult clients gain awareness of how their current relationship patterns are affected by their childhood experiences, Kruger says. One technique she finds helpful involves taking the client’s experiences and imagining how those experiences would be perceived on The Brady Bunch. As a member of The Brady Bunch family, Kruger explains, the client would notice instantly if a partner or spouse were abusive because of the contrast with the sitcom family. However, growing up in a stressful environment with one or both parents suffering from an alcohol use disorder tends to distort a person’s perceptions of what is “normal” or acceptable.

For example, having a parent who drank and was inconsistently present when the client was a child would affect the client’s ability to evaluate his or her current relationships. If the client has a partner who sometimes withholds affection or emotion, is manipulative and comes around only when he or she wants something, the client won’t necessarily notice any red flags because those are the circumstances and relationship patterns the client knows from growing up, Kruger explains.

Kruger also gives short attachment assessments and finds that these clients often present with anxious attachments. “In relationships, [they cater] to the other person because that attachment anxiety comes up and that need for approval keeps them in relationships” — including bad ones, she says.

To help clients see the connection between their view of themselves and their relationships with others, Kruger will have clients write out how they view themselves, how they view other people and how they view the world. Then, they will discuss how these views are created, how clients are perpetuating these views and how they would like to see themselves in relationships.

The exercise is particularly helpful for clients who find themselves in toxic relationships, Kruger adds. “It’s really rare [for] somebody in a toxic relationship [who is] being manipulated to say, ‘I see myself in high regard, and I think I’m great.’ It’s usually the opposite,” she says.

Making meaning of conflicted feelings

Another crucial part of adult children’s recovery is sorting through their conflicted feelings of love, disappointment, anger and shame. In fact, both Eschmann and Kruger find that shame and guilt are common presenting issues.

Children often feel that a parent’s situation is their fault, and they find it difficult to process these multilayered emotions, Kruger notes. They simultaneously feel disappointment in and love for their parent. For adult children, processing and making sense of these feelings is a substantial part of recovery, she explains. Counselors should acknowledge that shame piece and how clients have “put that burden on themselves and carried that burden with them throughout adulthood,” Kruger advises. 

“Shames translates to I am bad,” Kruger points out. “Even if [clients] don’t present it on the outside, they’re usually coming in with some pretty damaged self-esteem and are already judging themselves.” In part for that reason, she emphasizes the importance of creating a nonjudgmental atmosphere in counseling.

When self-esteem, thoughts and feelings are involved, Kruger uses cognitive behavior therapy techniques. She says she has experienced a good deal of success with an exercise that blends cognitive restructuring and emotion identification. In the exercise, clients look at a triggering event and then identify their negative self-talk and automatic thought, the feeling that this thought creates, evidence to strengthen this thought, evidence against this thought and a new thought that they can believe.

The exercise allows clients to recognize their negative self-talk and its consequences and enables them to reconfigure these self-demeaning thoughts in a way that is believable to them, Kruger explains. For example, clients might think that they are “bad” and list all of the evidence they have for that thought. Next, they could counter that thought with the fact that they recently got a raise at work. Finally, they could create a new thought that sometimes they do good things, Kruger says.

“These clients need validation,” Eschmann emphasizes. “They didn’t get it growing up.” Instead, she explains, the parent who was abusing alcohol or other substances has often discounted the adult child’s feelings and experiences.

Klostermann also stresses the importance of normalizing these clients’ emotions and experiences. These clients may not realize — or, in some cases, perhaps don’t want to realize — the impact on them of their parents’ drug or alcohol use, he says. He notes how difficult it can be for clients to verbalize that their parents had or have a drinking problem, especially if they maintain a glorified version of their parents. For this reason, counselors need to help clients understand that it is possible for them to love their parents while still recognizing that their parents made mistakes.

Kathleen Brown-Rice, department chair and associate professor in the Department of Counselor Education at Sam Houston State University, agrees. Counselors must keep in mind that the family member is someone whom the client still loves and cares about, she says. Counselors can give clients the “space to say that you can love somebody and also be disappointed by their behaviors. You can love someone, and they can love you, and they can still hurt you,” she says. “[It’s] helpful for clients to understand that it’s more complicated than just [their parents are] bad or they don’t love [them].”

Eschmann helps clients focus on unresolved grief, which is common for adult children who grew up with parental substance abuse. Adult children are often hesitant to admit that their mom left them alone all night with a stranger or that their father came home drunk and had violent arguments with their mother, Eschmann says. They might not want to admit that these past events are why they get triggered today during certain situations.

“[Clients] have to accuse before [they] can excuse,” Eschmann asserts. “They have to go back and [ask], ‘What happened to me?’ This isn’t about [the parents] anymore. It’s about [the client].” If clients become more aware of what happened to them and what kind of environment they lived in that made them fearful and anxious today, then they can start healing, she adds. 

Mindful resilience 

Adult children who grew up in the same environment with substance abuse can respond very differently. One person may be angry, whereas another may be empathetic, and still another may end up also struggling with a substance use disorder. This raises the question of why some adult children of parents with alcohol use disorders are more resilient than others.

Resilience is “critical in terms of shaping kids’ development as they transcend into adulthood in terms of the choices that they make and the way that they deal with stress and conflict,” Klostermann points out. Based on his clinical experience, Klostermann suggests that having other healthy outlets (e.g., extracurricular activities such as sports, positive role models such as grandparents) and an ability to contextualize what is happening help to foster resilience.

Brown-Rice, an LPC and a member of ACA, acknowledges that there is more than simple genetics at play with resiliency. “Resiliency is not a moral characteristic. It’s a function of our brain,” she says. It’s “how our brain controls for those genetics … how that resiliency comes in and how we support that.”

Recently, she, along with Gina Forster (a lecturer in the Department of Anatomy at the University of Otago) and several other colleagues, conducted a study funded partly by a grant from the Center for Brain and Behavior Research at the University of South Dakota on college students who had similar experiences of being adult children of parents with substance use disorders. The participants identified as either engaging in risky substance use (the vulnerable group) or not engaging in risky substance use (the resilient group).

“Overall, their experience being raised by a parent who met the criteria for having a substance use disorder appeared similar,” says Brown-Rice, who presented the findings at the ACA 2017 Conference in San Francisco. However, “vulnerable individuals had lower scholastic performance … [and] reported poor overall psychological, physical and social health and more polysubstance use.”

The study also revealed another difference: The vulnerable group had a short allele of the serotonin transporter gene, which meant they were more likely to react to stressful events. “[This group] had a reduced uptake of their serotonin, which can increase depression and stressful life events,” explains Brown-Rice, associate editor of the Journal of Addictions & Offender Counseling.

Brown-Rice and the other researchers also measured brain activity while the participants viewed positive images (e.g., a cuddly bear), negative images (e.g., a crying baby) and neutral images (e.g., a chair). They found that the vulnerable group had altered brain activity when processing negative images. This group recognized the negative image but refused to store it, Brown-Rice explains.

Brown-Rice hypothesizes that this refusal to store negative images is an important factor in resiliency levels. To illustrate, imagine that you are walking outside and see a stick. Initially, your brain may think that the stick is a snake, so you jump back. As Brown-Rice explains, when you first see the stick, the amygdala activates and warns you because it looks like something that the brain remembers could hurt you. But after taking a closer look (i.e., storing the image), you realize it is just a stick, so you relax.

Resiliency depends on our ability to realize that the stick is not a snake. Some people, however, may be more likely because of brain functioning or genetic variations to see the stick and just react by running, Brown-Rice says. Thus, counselors can help certain clients by nurturing the parts of the brain that activate during stressful situations, she explains.

Brown-Rice incorporates this research into her clinical practice. She tells her clients that they have a resilient part of the brain — the prefrontal cortex — and that in session, they can work on controlling their brain and building their optimism and resiliency. She suggests that counselors use mindfulness techniques, such as guiding clients in breathing exercises and finding a safe place to go when triggered, because mindfulness is effective in calming the amygdala, which activates during stressful events.

Consistency also helps promote clients’ resiliency, Brown-Rice notes. If counselors are inconsistent, she says, that will put clients on edge.

Klostermann agrees. He finds that having a clear agenda helps to create a sense of safety and build rapport with clients. He informs them about his clinical approach and what to expect during the session and tells them there is no assumption on his part that they will schedule another appointment.

Kruger recommends using clients’ resiliency to help strengthen their internal sense of self. After all, she points out, adult children of parents with alcohol use disorders have already developed survival strategies, such as caring for siblings in areas in which the parent was lacking.

Instead of simply telling clients that they have strengths, Kruger uses motivational interviewing, which allows clients to identify and recognize their strengths themselves. For example, rather than telling a client, “You seem to be good at your job,” she might ask, “In what ways are you praised at your job?” This question helps clients reach the conclusion themselves, which builds their internal positive regard.

One more piece of advice for working with adult children of parents with substance use disorders: Counselors shouldn’t be afraid to change their approach if it’s not working. For example, Brown-Rice says, research has shown that people who have a short allele for serotonin may be resistant to cognitive behavior treatment. “If clients are not responding, we have to think maybe we need to change,” she says. “Maybe we need to move. Maybe we need to [incorporate] some of these mindfulness techniques. Maybe we need to do something else.”

Sometimes, it may be the counselor, not the client, who is being resistant, she stresses.

Halting the domino effect

The desire to get treatment for someone with a substance use disorder often overshadows the way that addiction affects the person’s family and others who care about the person. It shouldn’t.

In her educational video on addiction in the family, Claudia Black, an expert in addiction, highlights a child’s drawing of his experience living in a home where substance abuse is present. The child draws images of dominoes and writes, “Alcohol and drugs are like dominoes. They knock down the person, who knocks down everyone, including themselves.” The child’s words illustrate the way that addiction permeates and affects the entire family, not just the person with the substance use disorder.

For the first two years after her mother died from alcohol-related causes, Eschmann found herself crying repeatedly. Her grief and denial led her to learn more about chemical dependency, addiction and adult children of parents with alcohol use disorders. Counselors need to understand that the family has an emotional illness as well, Eschmann emphasizes. This illness is just as progressive as what the person with the substance use disorder is facing, she adds.

Brown-Rice reminds clients that they are not responsible for their substance use issues, but they are responsible for how they respond to these issues. For adult children of parents with substance use disorders, this means learning how their childhood experiences affect their current behaviors and choices.

Adult children of parents with substance use issues often feel isolated. Support groups such as Al-Anon and Adult Children of Alcoholics are helpful because they provide opportunities for people with similar experiences to share their stories and come to the realization that they’re not alone, Kruger says.

Counselors should also help clients understand that their parents’ substance use is not their shame to carry and substance abuse is not a legacy that they have to repeat, Brown-Rice says. Then, clients will realize that choosing a different path doesn’t mean that they are being disrespectful or dishonoring their parents, she explains.

The hope is that this different path will stop the domino effect of addiction, shame, depression and pain.

 

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Lindsey Phillips is a contributing writer to Counseling Today and a UX content strategist living in Northern Virginia. Contact her at consulting@lindseynphillips.com or through her website at lindseynphillips.com.

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